


Coffee Talks

by CarsonEd82



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Conversations, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-25 14:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20725877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarsonEd82/pseuds/CarsonEd82
Summary: Avery Myers (OC) was raised in the Northern Isles, home to The Court, a mysterious organization that trains assassins. With the rise of Voldemort, Avery transferred to Hogwarts for her final year of school to work through a list of Death Eaters The Court is targeting.After an unexpected late-night coffee talk, Snape finds himself inexplicably drawn to Avery's work activities.Will possibly continue with more Snape/OC





	1. Chapter 1

“Coffee?” Avery asked, not bothering to turn her head. The man on the other side of the room sneered. At least, she assumed he did. His facial expressions were so predictable between blank, sneering, snarling, and smirking. 

“Coffee?” he asked, completely unimpressed and definitely sneering. 

Avery turned with two mugs grasped in her hands. “Yes,” she said with a grin. She had guessed correctly: Snape’s face was in a full blown sneer. He was sitting at the head of the kitchen table, his arms crossed against his chest. She set one of the mugs on the table in front of him, and took the seat to his right, angling it away from the table to face him. “I’ve grown quite fond of it.” 

Snape sniffed at the dark liquid suspiciously. “I’m not surprised given the excessive amount of time you’ve spent in the States.” Though a snide tone blanketed his words, Avery was taken aback by their overall cordiality. 

She raised her own mug, her eyes fluttering shut at the comforting smell. After taking a long sip, she opened her eyes to appraise the man in front of her. His black eyes were on her as well, surveying her with a look she couldn’t quite peg. 

Snape was dressed in black, as always, and he looked positively exhausted. Though, Avery thought, if she were stuck playing a double agent, she was sure she would look a thousand times worse. Despite his pale and waxy skin coupled with the dark bags under his eyes, he still held an air of strength. 

“How are you?” Avery asked, the questioning slipping out before she could fully think it through and consider who she was addressing. 

Snape raise his eyebrows and curled his upper lip in a small sneer. “That is none of your concern, Miss Myers,” he said. 

“Well, pardon me for caring about your well-being.”

“As it is not your concern - ”

“Whose concern is it then? Dumbledore’s?” she asked, interrupting him to his annoyance.

Snape barely stopped the snort of derisive laughter from escaping his lips. “Hardly,” he muttered and took a small sip of coffee. Immediately, his face screwed up in displeasure. “How can you drink this straight?” he spluttered in shock in a very un-Snapeish way. 

Avery hid her smile and shrugged instead. “It’s an… acquired taste. I suppose I like the bitter things in life.” At this, she shot a wink at Snape. 

He clenched his jaw in irritation. “I see your time at Hogwarts has done nothing to improve your behavior.” 

“Did you really expect it to?” she asked, a grin stretching across her face again. 

Setting his coffee down, Snape sighed, his eyes dropping to the worn wooden counter top. Avery was painfully aware that to most everyone, the look on his face seemed like a regular, emotionless Snape face. But, Avery, who had spent for too much time studying the agent in front of her, could tell he was conflicted on his next move: whether to stay in HQ, or return to whatever, or whoever, was waiting for him beyond Grimmauld Place. 

The former won out, and he visibly relaxed in the kitchen chair. He raised his eyes to Avery’s again. He gestured around the empty kitchen. “Where is everyone?” he asked. 

“St. Mungo’s, visting Mr. Weasley.” 

“Ah.” The pair lapsed into silence for a moment. Avery drank more coffee, and Snape continued ignoring his. “Even…Black?” he asked coldly.

“Yes”

“Characteristically stupid of him.” 

Avery smiled and merely hummed. 

Snape glared at her. “And why was he allowed to go? Surely Dumbledore did not give him permission.” 

“I believe he took some polyjuice along with him,” she said casually. Honestly, Avery thought there were several way for Sirius to safely leave Grimmauld Place, and felt it was quite unnecessary for him to remain locked inside. Snape harrumphed, and Avery’s grin grew to Cheshire proportions. “I thought you’d be pleased he’s not here, or do you miss him?” 

“I won’t dignify that with a response,” he hissed. 

“Well that is a response, so I’ll take it.”

He scowled at her and impulsively took a long gulp of coffee, grimacing with displeasure. “What are you doing here then?” he snapped. 

Avery stood to refill her mug. One cup had barely an effect on her anymore. Perhaps she should start cutting back. With a shrug, she said, “Sirius has been kind enough to let me stay here whenever I please.” 

“Out of the kindness of his heart, I’m sure,” Snape said, dislike clear in his voice. 

Avery chuckled. “Yes, I would say so.” She returned to her place at his side, smelling the hot liquid with pleasure again. 

“I am…surprised Dumbledore does not object,” he said, his tone far too mild. Almost curious. 

“Why would he be?” she asked in faux confusion. 

He frowned and gave her a patronizing look. “As you are from the Northern Isles…I can’t think of any reason you would need to be in London.” 

“Really?” She would not make this easy on him. “Not a single one, Professor?” 

He glared at her, his black eyes glittering. “Beyond your work, of course, which I know Dumbledore does not approve of.” 

Avery swirled her coffee, suddenly wishing she’d thrown a shot or two of whiskey in the mix. “I’m well aware of how little the Headmaster cares for my line of work,” she said quietly. She downed a large gulp of coffee, wincing at the slight burn the liquid left behind. 

“His concerns are not unfounded,” Snape began slowly. 

Avery cut him off, “He fears for my soul, yes. But, I’ve been killing since I was twelve." She sneered slightly and said sarcastically, “I think it’s a little late to rectify any damage to my precious soul.” 

For once, Snape seemed at a loss for words. He blinked at Avery, his gaze unreadable. 

“I see,” he finally murmured. “I did not realize The Court starts you so young.” 

“Yes, it’s something Dumbledore usually leaves out,” she said. 

Silence reigned between them. Snape didn’t speak again until she’d finished her mug and rose to get a third cup. “Do you have a new target, then?” 

“Yes,” she said. 

He huffed, obviously frustrated with her restraint. When she turned back to him, he snapped, “Well? Who is it?” 

Avery allowed her eyes to rove over the man, taking in every line and trace of pre-mature age on his face. He’d pulled his hair half-back, and he looked all the better for it. Further, he clearly hadn’t spent any time over a cauldron lately, so his hair didn’t gleam with the usual grease. Instead, it looked soft and clean, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through the locks. Though Avery had always found him attractive in his own way, she could only imagine the difference if his appearance if he was not playing the role of a double agent, stressed and stretched between two lives. 

“Miss Myers,” Snape hissed, breaking through her thoughts. 

She cocked her head and gave him a glowing smile. “We’re not in school, you may call me Avery.” 

“The name, Myers,” he ground out. 

“Evan Rosier.” 

Snape tensed. His entire back seemed to snap in an impossibly rigid line. His jaw flexed, and Avery felt a sudden rush of warmth at the sudden movement. She mentally shook herself. Now was not the time to ogle Snape. 

“Rosier,” he said slowly, his voice quiet, but slightly shaking with suppressed anger. 

“Yep!” Avery said in an absurdly chipper voice. “Since you’re off limits, we had to go for the next best thing.” 

He glared at her for the third time. “You’re failure to take this seriously is alarming.” 

She rolled her eyes. “This is what I was raised to do. And, I’m quite good at it.”  
“Evan…is dangerous,” he said. 

Avery looked quite pointedly at him. “You’re all dangerous.” 

Involuntarily, Snape’s right hand twitched towards his left arm. He snarled at the implication that he and Rosier were place in the same category, then looked furious with himself for reacting at all to Avery’s words. “He’s someone to take seriously! He’s…insane. On par with Greyback,” Snape spat. 

“Careful,” Avery teased, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were worried about little ol’ me.” 

He ground his teeth, but released a huff of laughter in the form of a loud exhalation from his nose. “Hardly,” he drawled, “but, you do earn a lot of house points, and I’m looking forward to winning the cup back from McGonagall.” 

“Of course,” Avery said. She was still smiling, and she met Snape’s eyes pleasantly. Though he was an intimidating man, she had always enjoyed his presence. 

Their moment was broken by the sound of the front door opening and the murmuring of voices in the hallway. Avery finished off her coffee and stood. “I’ll tell them you’re here,” she said. 

Before she could leave the kitchen, Snape’s hand shot out at caught her forearm. He looked up from the kitchen chair, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the pulse point on her wrist. “Be careful…Avery,” he said, hesitating around her name. “Rosier is…” he shook his head, and released her hand. “Just, be careful,” he finished quietly. 

Avery’s heart thumped wildly, her wrist burning from his touch. She swallowed and nodded, her eyes trapped in his black orbs. “I will, Severus,” she whispered, and left the room.


	2. A Fool

The sight of Evan Rosier’s pale, crazed green eyes sent Severus on a wild goose chase. The Dark Lord had given him orders to return to Hogwarts immediately to keep eyes on Dumbledore, but, not for the first time, Snape disobeyed the order.

For the first time, however, he was not disobeying his orders for the Headmaster.

No.

He was disobeying the order, risking torture at the hands of his Master, because of a student.

_A student!_ Severus ran a slightly damp hand through his tangled hair. It was raining in London, and he walked swiftly through the dark cobblestone streets. He’d lost track of Rosier and resorted to apparating every few blocks, quickly checking the alleyways and streets, then apparating again.

Sure, Avery was _technically_ an adult, even by muggle standards. And Snape knew all too well that the Court didn’t mess around with their training. He had no real doubt that she could take care of herself. Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore the near-panicked rhythm of his heart hammering along to the rain.

Minutes felt like hours. In his rush to follow Rosier, Severus hadn’t properly fastened his traveling cloak. It hung awkwardly around his shoulders, and he grew increasingly aware of the slow saturation of his robes underneath. It was very cold.

He clenched his white hands into fists, gnashing his teeth together. _Where the hell was Evan?_

“Sectumsempra!” A flash of light followed the high pitched shriek. The curse came from the street beyond the alley Snape was turning on his foot to apparate from. He halted his movements quickly, grimacing at the pain jutting through him - the threat of splinching.

He nearly sprinted to the street, but managed to slow himself down. If Evan saw him and Avery didn’t finish the job, Severus would have some explaining to do that he really didn’t want to. He slunk to the edge of the alley, revealing himself enough to watch the dancing fight in the street.

Avery - dressed head-to-toe in black, her face obscured by the black mask of the Court - ducked and dipped around Evan. Only her eyes were visible through the rain, and in the dim light they looked like black holes, gaping and fearsome. Evan’s neck was bleeding. He’d clearly managed to just miss a deadly slice to his jugular, and the blood soaked the white collar of his robes.

He looked insane, more insane than Severus had ever seen him. Rosier was a tall, gaunt man. Why he was wearing white robes was beyond Snape, but the stark cloth against his pale skin made him look like a ghost. A ghost being attacked by a shadow.

Evan spun his wand with ease in the fingers of his right hand. “Expulso! Crucio! Confringo” he snarled each curse one after the other, arcing his wand towards the swiftly moving Avery.

She managed to avoid each one. Severus could see a glint of silver in her right hand, and a shiver went through him at the sight. It was a dagger. Rosier slashed at the young girl again, and she dove out of the way, rolling through a puddle.

Snape’s hands were so tightly clenched, he felt a dull stinging in his palms - his nails had cut into his palm. But, he remained frozen in the mouth of the alley. He was not supposed to be here, he reminded himself over and over. 

Avery popped out of the dive, turned to face Rosier, and lunged at the taller man. In the same moment, he turned on his heel to face her, swinging his wand around, and screamed, “Sectumsempra!”

Bile rose in Snape’s throat. He hated himself for inventing that curse, for teaching it to Evan, for even conceiving the idea. Horror swelled in him as he watched the curse leave Evan’s wand and arc for Avery.

It found its mark, slicing deeply into Avery’s left shoulder. She jerked at the impact, but continued her approach, slamming into Evan and knocking him to the ground. The pair scrabbled on the ground for the moment. Rosier’s left elbow flailed wildly and managed to catch Avery in the face, dislodging her mask.

He rolled to his knees, brandished his wand again, and hissed, “Avada Kedavra!”

The jet of emerald light illuminated the street in an otherworldly flash. The entire world seemed to freeze in the millisecond following the unforgivable curse.

Avery ducked the curse by the hair of her neck. Her face, no longer obscured by the mask, twisted in concentration, and she propelled herself forward, wrapping one of her arms around Rosier’s neck. She pulled herself flush against him, and plunged the silver dagger into his heart. The light from the killing curse faded, and gloom blanketed the two.

The rain pattered against the stones in the street. For a moment, the rain was all Severus could hear. Then, the sound of quiet panting and gasping reached his ears. Without thinking, he stepped out of the alley, walking slowly and silently toward the hunched shadows marking where Avery and Rosier were. As he drew closer, their forms became clear.

Her arm was still wrapped around Rosier’s neck, cradling the dying man. His eyes, no longer wide with manic craze, blinked, confused. A few, gurgling breaths escaped his lips, and the rain mixed with a few droplets of blood lining his lips. Severus could see the dagger in Avery’s right hand, buried nearly to the hilt in Evan’s chest. Without taking her eyes off her target, she twisted the blade and pushed the it completely in.

Rosier’s eyes fluttered shut, a final gasp wheezed from his chest. He went limp, and his wand rolled free from his hand. Avery pulled the knife from him, wiping it methodically on her pant leg. She scooped up Evan’s wand, stowed it in her left boot, and looked up at Snape.

He scanned her, taking in her damp, pale face. Tendrils of black hair had escaped the tightly woven braid tucked into her jacket. The strands curled around her jaw, black against the pale white skin of her face. Crouching to her eye level, Severus peered at her shoulder where Evan had hit her. He could not tell the extent of the damage, it was too dark, and it was hard to tell if the staining on Avery’s clothes came from blood or rain water.

She appeared utterly unsurprised to see him. “Severus,” she sighed, “how lovely to see you.”

Snape clenched his jaw at her nonchalant tone. He reached forward to pinch the fabric surrounding her shoulder. His fingertips came away red. He snarled and seized her, wrenching her to a standing position and turning on the spot before she could say another word.

“Merlin, Snape,” Avery gasped when the vortex of compression from the apparition faded. He ignored her and shouldered the door to Grimmauld Place open.

It was nearly one in the morning, so it was unlikely they would be disturbed. Severus dragged Avery into the building. He knew he was probably hurting her, but she remained silent as he led her to the kitchen. The room was dark and deserted, as expected. He flicked his wand. A fire roared to life and several candles lit up the space. Heat immediately wafted out of the fireplace.

Severus shoved Avery into one of the kitchen chairs. She looked even paler in the light of the fire. She tried to shrug off her jacket, and her face contorted in pain. The fabric was slashed through from the curse, and Snape could see blood seeping from the barely visible wound. His frown deepened, and he did his best to remove the fabric without hurting Avery further.

It was quite a futile effort, but no sound escaped the girl. Normally, Severus would have been impressed with such control. However, all her silence did was remind him of her upbringing, of her training.

She had been trained to not react to pain.

And the only way to train such control was to…to go through pain.

To go through torture.

Snape quickly tried to dislodge the thoughts from his head, focusing instead on the problem at hand - the problem he _could_ fix.

With the jacket gone, Avery sat in a black tank top, blood covering her left shoulder and most of her chest. Severus flicked his wand again, quickly cleaning the area. The curse had left behind a deep, clean gash that stretched from her collarbone to her freckled shoulder. Murmuring a slew of healing spells, he sealed the bleeding wound. It was about seven inches long, and the mark would never disappear. Severus ran his fingers across the fresh scar tissue, inspecting his work.

The firelight danced across Avery’s freckles, and the skin surrounding the raised scar was soft and smooth. Snape tried to ignore the flicker of heat in the back of his mind at the sight and feel of her bare shoulder. Like a magnet, his eyes were pulled to the pulse point in her neck.

He swallowed thickly and pulled away from Avery, turning his gaze to her face. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing slowly, slightly slumped in her chair as though she were unconscious. He forced his hand back to his side, wondering if she had actually fallen asleep. However, at the removal of his fingers, she blinked and sat up to look at him.

The sight of her ocean-like eyes looking at him without a concern stirred his anger again. Sitting upright and glowering at her, he snapped, “That was incredibly stupid of you.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she said with a weak smile. Exhaustion clung to her limbs, but she refused to break eye contact.

Snape’s black eyes drifted back to her exposed skin, to the new scar glowing in the warm light. “An inch closer to your neck and he would have severed your jugular!” he nearly shouted, the pulse point drawing his gaze again. Severus screwed his eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. The image of the raven-haired girl laying prostrate in the street - her neck sliced open, her eyes wide and lifeless - refused to disappear from his mind. It swam and leapt and broke through every obstacle he sent against it in an effort to banish it. He felt ill.

The feeling of Avery’s fingers grabbing his free hand made him jump, snapping his thoughts back to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and momentarily shattering the image of a dead Avery, from his mind. Snape met her eyes again, and was surprised to see a look of true concern painted across her face.

Her thumb swept across his hand, and she squeezed it comfortingly. “But, he didn’t,” she said firmly. “I am fine.”

Severus jerked his hand from her grasp and jumped to his feet. Fury at her disregard for her own life pumped through his veins. He towered over her. “And if I had not been there?” he asked with a snarl. “You would have bled out in the street!”

Some color slowly filtered back into Avery’s cheeks. She held his furious gaze evenly. “He didn’t hit anything I couldn’t have taken care of myself,” she said. “Besides,” she added, “I completed the job, and that’s what matters.”

He answered her with a hiss, “Your apathy towards your own well-being is alarming.”

“It’s part of the job. It’s how I was raised -”

“It’s disgusting,” he spat.

At this, Avery rose to her feet, her eyes beginning to blaze. The tank top she’d been wearing under the jacket was still damp from the blood. The curse sliced through one of the straps, and it hung limply beneath the scar stretching across her soft skin. The appearance infuriatingly drew Snape’s attention _again._ He looked at the damp stain of blood clinging to the fabric of her shirt, lingered on her shoulder, then managed to raise his dark eyes to Avery’s blue ones.

She swallowed. “I don’t expect you to understand,” she said quietly. She took a few hesitant steps towards the fuming man. “But, thank you,” she whispered, now standing barely an arm’s length from Severus.

“You are a fool.”

“Maybe.”

The pair stood toe-to-toe. Snape’s gaze drifted to the scarred shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time. He swallowed again, and reached a hand out to grasp her shoulder without thinking. He swept a thumb over the jagged surface.

The Dark Lords orders drifted through his mind. He needed to go back to Hogwarts.

He wasn’t supposed to be there, at Grimmauld Place…with Avery.

He needed to obey his orders. He needed to leave.

Instead, he slid the hand on her shoulder to her neck, his palm covering her pulse. He caressed her jaw, his fingertips disappearing into her damp hair.

Avery sighed, her eyes fluttering shut, and she leaned into the caress. She took a small step closer, and raised her hands to rest against his chest.

“You need to be more careful, Miss Myers,” Severus said, trying to force some professionalism into the situation. It was a sorry-attempt, and, against his better judgment, he tangled his other hand into her ebony locks as well, drawing her even closer.

She opened her eyes, a small smirk appeared on her lips. “We’re not in school,” she said, “It’s Avery.” One of her hands curled around his neck, drawing his face towards her.

He needed to step away, to go back to Hogwarts.

But, Avery was warm, and the terror that clung to him at the sight of her _just_ escaping death held him in his place. 

Then, he was close enough to feel her breath on his face, and his train of thought disappeared. Her eyes bore into his.

His gaze flickered to her lips. “Avery,” he said in a whisper, in surrender. The gap between them vanished. Her lips were soft, and slightly cold from the rain. Avery’s hands twisted in his hair, fusing herself to him. The kiss deepened, and a smoldering heat burned through Severus.

His hands drifted from her hair, to her shoulders, finally coming to a rest at her waist, hugging her to him with a desperation he was quite unfamiliar with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this all in one sitting, and I didn't have anyone read over it, so I apologize for the inevitable mistakes and slip-ups.   
Not sure if I'll add more from here. So far, these two scenes are the only two that have really formed in my head.   
Let me know what y'all think.

**Author's Note:**

> The Northern Isles are off the West coast of Washington.  
OC is 18 in my mind.  
As said in the description, I may continue this further.  
In this fic, Snape is still pretty Snape-y, but not nearly as cruel as his book counterpart.


End file.
